


Anthem of the Endtimes

by PerhapsTheWind



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Cults, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Metahuman Reader, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24013780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerhapsTheWind/pseuds/PerhapsTheWind
Summary: or,The reader brought forth the end of days.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Reader, Jason Todd/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	1. Nightcall

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> A few notes: 
> 
> I don’t like to spoil anything in my tags, so tags will be added as I go. 
> 
> This is going to be an apocalyptic fic, and will explore darker themes, but I intend to have plenty of humor and try not to let it too grimdark or become a huge drag. 
> 
> Read away, enjoy! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel  
>  I want to drive you through the night, down the hills  
> I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear  
> I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear _
> 
> Nightcall by Kavinsky
> 
> No Chapter Warnings

“Do you think a two-pound jug of cheese puffs are really fucking necessary, Vesper?” You asked incredulously, holding an arm full of pasta boxes. 

“Abso- _fucking_ -lutely, Deej,” she replied, throwing it in the cart that had seen better days in a better time. 

Deej was short for DJ, of course. 

You walked up and down aisles that were nearly picked clean in this desperate time. Vesper and yourself were the only two people in the store. It was littered with receipt paper and broken glass, and you stepped carefully, as to not crack the glass and make more noise than you were already making. 

You grabbed some more pre-packaged goods; tomatoes, broth, spices, canned meat. Vesper grimaced at you. 

“I know, but it’s better than nothing. We need protein.” 

She shivered but nodded in some semblance of approval. You grabbed more goods that didn’t quite match anything else you had but began to improvise some recipes in your head. 

It was especially tricky ever since Famine arrived. She was the second horseman and hit the world the hardest after Pestilence weakened the populace. You were safe in the walls of the commune. 

_Red walls, red cloaks, red blood, red eyes…_

“Alright let’s head back.” You mumbled. 

You looked out of the broken floor-to-ceiling windows and began to leave on to the empty streets. Before you took your first step, you noticed a suit with a black mask appear from behind a dumpster. There was another, and then another, all carrying various guns. They were like skeletons, thin and pale, the suits hanging off them like drapery. You froze. 

“DJ, what do we do?” Vesper whispered. You’d begun to back up into the convenience store once more. 

“Hide in the bathroom.” You glanced behind yourself, pointing at the door with your eyes. 

“What? No, you’re not offering yourself up like bait.” She said sharply. “We’ll ram them with the cart. 

“Vesper, listen to me, for _fuck’s_ sake. Get back in there.”

“You’re coming with me,” she demanded. 

You huffed, “fine.” 

You both grabbed the cart and made a wide circle, running, the cart squealing in defiance with the motion. You let Vesper run ahead of you, and she darted into the bathroom, the only one pushing now. 

You forced the door shut behind her. Pressing your body against the handle, the black masks closing in. You moved your body back away from the door and focused on a large, industrial shelf that sat beside it. 

You held up your hands, your veins crackling red, and a dark cloud emanating from them. You felt your eyes dilate, and that knot in your chest release, the energy flowing like a river in your form. You waved your hand sharply. 

_Something prophetic and dark flows within you, girl._

The shelf jolted, tumbling on it’s side, spilling empty, waterlogged boxes. The door was obscured, but you could hear Vesper beating on it angrily, and ramming the cart into it as you walked away. She screamed your name repeatedly.

The power that ran through your veins was strong, but you doubted yourself as the suits held up semi-automatic weapons. 

“Listen here, _freak_ ,” the one in the front spat the words, “Give us your supplies, and we won’t fill you full of holes.” He trained a gun on you, unwavering. 

Your hands were at your side, but you flexed your fingers, and the darkness flowed into them. 

“Okay, what the-“ 

You swung your arm in an arc, the black cloud striking them and sending them like rag dolls into the windows of beer coolers. One of them got to their feet immediately and clutched a revolver pulled from his holster. He fired a round and missed, hitting bricks behind your head. 

You held out your hands in an effort to hit him with a blast of whatever flowed within you, but nothing came out. The power in your veins retreated, settling back into your muscles and down into your bones. Panic washed over you. 

You could feel the man smirk as he cocked back the hammer. 

A whistle through the air, the sound of something minuscule puncturing skin and bone, and the masked man collapsed into a limp heap. You ducked down low, ready for the rain of bullets that inevitably comes afterward, but it never happened. 

You peeked out and tilted your head up, your hand shielding your eyes from the setting sun, but no one was on the rooftops that you could see. 

“Th-thanks!” You called out into Gotham City.

~ ~ ~ 

“Some dude just shot them all?” Vesper asked, sipping on her steaming soup with a sigh. 

You leaned back in the creaky old office chair and stared at the ceiling of your hideout you shared with Vesper. “I swear on my sister’s life.” You didn’t have a sister. 

“Whoa, the fuck. Maybe it’s Batman.” She sat on her yoga ball and downed the rest of her soup, with an obnoxious slurp. She then bounced up and down on her yoga ball, and picked up her guitar. “Ohhhh… DJ met the Batman today~” she sang, strumming a few notes. “He just floated on the winds, pickin’ off dudes with an AK~” She held up her guitar to her face, pointing the neck at you. She made a poof sound with her lips. 

“Batman didn’t use guns.” You waved her off. 

“Well, maybe not before the world up and died, but this world necessitates the use of guns. They basically required it when things started going down the shitter.” 

“And yet we have no guns,” you remarked. 

“Well, shit happens, we’ve been fine so far,” Vesper shrugged. “Buuuuuut, I did manage to nab the rest of the weed we had at the shop, so I’m not good for nothin’.” She lit the end and took a deep inhale. 

“Ah, yes, because weed will save us from a bullet.” 

“Shhhh. Just smoke,” Vesper held out a meticulously rolled joint, smoke wafting up in acrid ribbons. 

You rolled your eyes and held your fingers out and held the joint up to your lips, sucking the sweet smoke into your lungs and suppressing a cough. 

“Countdown in 3...2…1.” She held up the corresponding fingers and pressed a few buttons on the audio console that sat in front of her. 

You slid the headphones over your ears, the high beginning to buzz faintly in the front of your brain. 

“Greetings to you out in the wasteland!” Vesper called out into the airwaves putting up her hands triumphantly. “You’re listening to your one and only radio station in the city, Anthem of the Endtimes! Providing you all the old and older hits, before all the musicians died.” 

You messed with a few dials, and the sound of a sad tuba played over the speakers. 

“That’s DJ on the dials, esteemed listeners, my best friend, and your soundboard for the evening.” 

Yep, DJ literally stood for disc jockey. You didn’t disclose your real name, you faintly even remembered it yourself. 

“Yo,” you said plainly. 

“She’s a woman of few words, but we love her all the same. We’ll be right back, don’t touch that dial.” 

She pressed a couple buttons and put on Feel Good Inc by the Gorillaz. You took a few more tokes, and leaned back in the chair, tingling in your hands and toes. 

“I needed this,” you said. “Today was rough.” 

“I hear ya. We need to move onto Bludhaven, I’m telling you. It’s way safer there.” 

“I don’t know, Vesper. I don’t get a good feeling about that place.” You didn’t say why, of course. 

You didn’t breach your origin with anyone, Vesper or otherwise. 

“We can’t stay here forever, DJ. We’re going to run out of food or get killed, it’s as simple as that.”

“Can we talk about this later, please?” You whined. 

“Fine,” she hissed as the song neared the end, and she clicked open her line. “That was Feel Good Inc, by the Gorillaz. We hope you’re all safe and sound out there. As you know we have a request line, 555-6666 is the number. We would love to hear from our first ever caller. You heard me correctly. We’ve never had a caller. Please, for the love of God, be caller number one. Prove to us that we’re not the only chill people out there. A moment of silence, for our very dusty request phone.” 

You pressed a few buttons, and a canned funeral dirge played, and you honored your neglected request line. 

Then, it lit up. 

It jarred you out of your highness slightly. Neither of you responded right away. 

“Whoa, listeners. Listeners. The request line is lighting up for the first time ever. You heard it here folks, the request line is lighting. Up.”

You reached over hesitantly. You picked up the phone slowly and listened for the breath on the other end, it was even-keeled. You cleared your throat, swallowed, and spoke to the mysterious caller. “W-GTM, home of yesterday’s hits and the day before, what song can we play for you?” 

“Hi DJ, it’s been a weird day.” It was a man, his voice was a little grizzled and deep. “Could you play People are Strange for me? Thank you,” 

“Hey, hey, wait!” You called out. “You’re our first caller ever, who are you?” 

“Just some guy. Be careful out there, doll, would ya? There are all sorts of bad characters. I can only pick off so many.” 

The line went dead. 

“Well, well, a mysterious stranger calling on the line giving us some radio love, Deej. How ’bout that? You heard the man, here’s People are Strange!” She queued it up and looked at you in shock, mouth agape, pulling her headphones around her neck. “Batman likes The Doors!” Vesper shouted, mind blown. 


	2. Hostiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It'll be a silent day  
>  I'll share with you  
> Fighting off the hostiles  
> With whom we collude  
> Hoping to find the key  
> To this play of communications  
> Between you and me_
> 
> Hostiles by Damon Albarn 
> 
> A shift in perspective.  
> Content Warning for violence and mentions of child abuse.

Jason woke alone on a floor mattress. When he sat up to stretch, the sound of bubble wrap emanated in the metal storage container that he called his home. 

It was safe enough to give him comfort, any other amenities were luxury to him. 

He’d made this place a temporary hideout and never left. He would eventually move when his targets in the vicinity were taken out by the bullets in his gun. He was a nomadic assassin, and business was booming since the end times began. 

If there was ever a time when evil shows its face, it’s when the world begins to crumble. The people in power scramble to keep it, taking down anyone vulnerable enough to be caught in the crosshairs. 

Jason’s morning routine was simple. Instant coffee while watching the sunrise, eat whatever convenient food he has handy, and attend to his list. 

His list. It was a red spiral-bound notebook because he thought that would be funny. Inside he’d written in messy scrawlings the names of those who’d earned their spot. Child molesters, rapists, domestic abusers, the one-percent. When he took them out, he’d scratch them off in permanent marker. He took great pride in scratching their name off, relishing the way the ink bled through the page as if marking the next target with a sign of what is to come. 

Today, it was a particularly disgusting individual. 

A priest. You’ve heard of the type. 

You see, he was meant to go to trial, just before the end of days. The kid, the only witness who would talk, was ready to disclose what happened, breaking open a decades-long tradition of not believing the victim. 

That was until the priest’s lackeys got to them. They scared off the family, killed their dog, left threatening messages, had the mom followed until they were forced to move. 

The priest kept his position. 

Now, crosshairs were between the priest’s eyes, and Jason smirked behind a red bandanna from on high. Justice no longer held a gavel. 

The twitch of his finger was barely a flicker. The gun bucked harshly, followed by a splash of red, painting the street like abstract art. 

It always shocked Jason a little how dead bodies went limp. How they crumpled like garbage when their muscles gave out. How unseeing their eyes really were. 

The fellow priests scrambled like ants when the monster they served dropped. 

_Good,_ Jason thought. _Let that be their warning._

The Red Hood would find them, should they cross a line. 

Jason scanned the area through the sights on his gun. 

Then he saw you. 

He’d never seen you before, nor Vesper. But he knew you were close, the way you watched each other’s back, and covered the blind spots. He thought your hands looked soft, the way they guided Vesper along. Across the street, around broken down lampposts, and past dumpsters that were merely suggestions. 

Then he saw the masks. How had he not seen them? Who was he kidding, they were sneaky, and he’d been distracted. He was always a sucker for a pretty face. 

You had that smile, the kind that could melt steel or stop a bullet. 

Now he was just waxing poetic, and badly. 

You were pushing your friend away as they approached. He’d faintly heard your name as the bathroom door was slammed shut. 

_DJ._

Hm. You hadn’t looked like a DJ. 

Then he saw the fireworks. The red and black energy that flows within you. You were surprising, to say the least. 

You were beautiful, like a forest fire. 

He nearly dropped his gun, since you had it handled. Then there was one left. 

Your energy was gone, the forest fire extinguished. 

_Strange._

Bullets are quicker than fire, anyway. 

_Don’t look so confused, you’re in the same world as me. Bullets are cheap and common. It should be me who looks confused._

_But I know exactly who you are. She warned me I would find you._

You’re meant to find her, boy. The child of Blood. 

_That poor woman. If only I hadn’t been so slow. Fate had another purpose for her, though._

_She was the vector for a message I was meant to have._

The child of Blood. 

Jason hadn’t realized it was quite so literal until he did some digging. The adopted child of one Brother Blood, all grown up and free. 

He didn’t know what it all meant or what part he played in it, but he was beginning to think there was something to this whole “destiny” and “fate” thing. 

It was stranger still when his broken radio that hadn’t made a sound in weeks started working again, and he heard your voice. 

It really was a weird day. 

~ ~ ~

“Deej, seriously. We need to consider our future, and it is not here.” Vesper sipped on green tea, her shoulders back confidently as if already celebrating a victory. It was the next morning after the mysterious stranger called.

You sipped on instant coffee. “I’m telling you, it’s not a good idea. We have a good thing going right now, and we can’t move on if there are still resources, because there are risks in traveling between cities. We need to cut down on risks.” 

Her shoulders looked less confident. “Our resources are almost tapped. The fewer resources that remain, the more desperate people get. We need to move on before it gets to that point.”

She made a fair argument. Bludhaven was a big city, you might not ever even come across him if you lived there. You were worried briefly that she might move on without you if you kept trying to hold her back. You didn’t want to chance it any longer. 

You sighed. “Okay. Fine. We’ll leave around lunchtime.” 

You had noticed that the city was much less dangerous around lunch. It was like the bad folks had all mutually agreed to a ceasefire around noon, or take a nap or something. You weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you didn’t question it. 

You know the whole journey would take about a day and a half, as you were in the suburbs and the nearest barge was on the other side of town. Going on foot, especially the way the city was restructured, took a while. 

You packed up everything, which didn’t consist of much. A black backpack, some food supplies, a couple of sets of clothing, a book you’d stolen from the church, and some chapstick. 

You had simple taste. Well, you had to now. 

You said goodbye to your radio station, feeling sad that you couldn’t sign off for your listeners. It was too much of a risk in case the wrong people tuned in and wanted to be nefarious. Vesper claimed on good authority that there was another empty radio station in Bludhaven, with not a soul running the place. As long as the equipment was there and Vesper had her USB of pirated songs, they could make the impossible happen. 

You set forth toward the barge. 

The trip through the city was marred with overturned buses, on fire cars and garbage cans, and makeshift gang cities of varying size and style. You knew the way through to keep the danger at bay, a neutral territory where you would be at least mostly safe. 

After many gang city crossings and fees of various canned goods, you ended up in the warehouse of a mattress company. Convenient, you both thought. 

After the two of you built a fort out of mattresses that were wrapped in plastic, you settled in for the night. You sat cross-legged and ate baked beans out of cans. 

“You know, I never thought I’d say it,” Vesper said, “but I miss hot dogs.” 

You cackled. “I mean hell yeah, baked beans on hot dogs sound delicious right now.” 

“Let’s travel like this forever. You and I. If things go back to normal, we’ll hit up Hawaii.” She laid back on the bed and stared at the metallic ceiling. “I know a guy who can get us a good deal.” 

“Agreed. We’ll make it happen. Drink whatever the post-apocalyptic equivalent is to Pina Coladas.” You rubbed your hands together in anticipation. 

“Yeah. Ugh, oh my _god_. That sounds amazing right now.” 

You both chattered until you fell asleep on your own world, inside a fortress of foam and fabrics, the faint sound of Vesper’s music floating into the air out of her earbuds.

Your eyes peeled open when you felt a sharp point in your back. You gasped, but hushed when the knife dug lightly into your skin. A gloved hand covered your mouth, and the smell of cigarettes and whiskey overwhelmed your nose. 

“Make a sound, and you’ll regret it. I know what you are.” A cockney accent hissed in your ear. 

He was beginning to drag you away, arms tied behind your back. You realized you couldn’t go without a fight. 

You flexed your hands behind your back, the dark cloud growing there. 

The thick smack of something solid against your head stopped you cold. 

Faintly, you heard Vesper call your name from far away. 

~ ~ ~

Brother Blood stood on the 32nd floor of his tower, overlooking the potential of this beautiful city. He wanted it to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, anew and glowing. 

The mayor stood in his way. Bludhaven was one of the few cities left with any measure of infrastructure and economy. People fled here from all over the country, seeking a new beginning and leaving their past. 

The mayor drank water from crystalline glass, refusing any alcohol Blood offered. 

“I’m getting old, Blood. I didn’t sign up to guide this city during the apocalypse. I wanted an easy-breezy career. I gotta pass the title to someone else.” 

“Well, you know my position, sir. I feel I would be an excellent leader for Bludhaven.” 

“You had some not so great visibility lately,” he shook his head. “That girl leaving your church was not good for ratings.” 

“She’s not a problem anymore. She’s not credible.” He waved off the mayor. “Most of the country doesn’t even have access to the media anymore.” 

“Word spreads. You need to do something about her. Make that happen, see where your ratings are, and I’ll see about giving you my endorsement when I leave office. The people love me, they’ll vote for you.” 

“I’ll take care of her,” he nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for all the kudos! 
> 
> I love hearing your thoughts, so let me know what you think in the comments. 
> 
> Much love, stay safe. 
> 
> SNS <3


	3. Devil Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Does the devil get scared if she dies in her dreams, while the Earth burns?
> 
> She cries, 'cause she's nothin' like you. Is she like you?"
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well out there! Please enjoy this next installment, and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from y'all. 

"Master, Father Blood would like to see you." A young boy about your age bowed when he spoke to you. 

"Jeremy, you don't have to call me master. I've told you." You sighed at him. 

"I'm sorry. The masters… they get mad at me if I don't address you properly," he said your name, but it sounded foreign on his tongue. 

"Well, I'm going to tell them to lay off of you. It's not fair that they treat you this way." You reached out and touched his arm tentatively. 

"Don't tell them that, please. They'll still punish me, they'll say I made you feel guilty and manipulated you. You don't get it. You don't get what it's like." He brushed you off. 

"I-I'm sorry." You replied. "I sometimes forget how it is for you." 

He was tentative, but he looked up at you with sad, honey-brown eyes. 

"It's okay." He reached for your hand, and you kissed. He was your first kiss. 

"I love you." You blurted out, without thinking. Your hand went to your mouth as if trying to catch the words that spilled out. 

The words hit him like a slap to the face, but then he smiled. "I love you too. I've… I've loved you for a long time. But I felt it was inappropriate, so I didn't say anything." 

"How could it be inappropriate? It's _fate_. I mean, I asked Father about fate. And how you know if something is fate or infernal intervention. He said that if something feels true. As if the stars aligned and it could have been no other conclusion, then perhaps it is fate. I feel like that with you. Like it couldn't have been anyone else." 

"I feel the same," he spoke your name like gospel, and you embraced in a kiss. 

Then Father Blood walked in. 

That was the last time you saw Jeremy. 

~ ~ ~

Your eyes struggled to focus. The image of a man swam into view. Your back was sore, bent awkwardly with your hands behind it. You could smell fresh cigarette smoke, sharp and pungent in the air. You recognized the brand, Lucky Strikes. Your father, your real one, smoked them. 

The man who smoked in front of you sat on the chair backward, straddling the back. He had sandy blonde hair that laid messily on his head. He wore a trench coat that was stained with all manner of shapes and colors. His eyes were blue and shined like glass in the fluorescent lighting of what you assumed was a basement. You hated him immediately when he smiled. 

"Well, well, well. Look who it is." He tutted. "I thought you'd put up more of a fight." 

You flexed your hand into a fist, waiting to feel that familiar crackle, the static, the fizz of your fingertips. 

But you felt nothing. 

"Did you _really_ think I'd be so stupid as to let you have access to your little abilities? I mean, honestly." 

"What did you do to me?" You panicked.

"Relax, I just placed you in a ward." He motioned at the ground, which was adorned with intricate concentric circles drawn in chalk with markings in each ring.

"What's he paying you?" You asked pointedly with a bitter smile. 

"Who?" He lit up a cigarette, eyebrow quirked curiously.

"You know who, don't play dumb with me."

He shrugged. "No one paid me anything. I wish they had, I could use the money."

"Brother Blood didn't pay you?"

He cringed as if you'd vomited on his shoe. "Love, I wouldn't work for Blood if he paid me all the money in his Swiss accounts."

"Then what the fuck is all of this?!" You yanked at the chair, fury bubbling inside you.

"Oh come on now, you're smarter than that." He looked amused as the bitter smoke wafted up from his lips. 

"Please enlighten me," you snarled. 

"You're the bloody Antichrist," he remarked, flabbergasted.

He wasn't wrong. You wished he were.

"Killing me won't stop all of this," you replied coolly. "I didn't have any control over any of it."

"There can't be a prophecy if you're _dead_ , love. That's my logic."

"What prophecy?" You balked. 

He looked annoyed that you were so unenlightened. "I only know bits and pieces of it, it speaks of the child of darkness, _something something_ , the world ending." He leaned over, eye to eye with you, and that sharp smell of his whiskey breath and cigarettes filled your nostrils. "It's a shame really, you're a sight." He looked you up and down with lascivious eyes. 

You jerked your head forward, your forehead smashing into his nose. 

"Ugh, bloody hell!" He screamed, holding his nose as his palms pooled with red. 

You laughed. "Fuck you." 

He stopped screaming, and his eyes flashed up at you. They were no longer playful and blue, they were dark crimson, matching the blood that painted a path from his nose down his chin. His dark pupils were barely visible, like a tiny black hole threatening to envelop everything. 

His voice was a mix of highs and lows, played on top of each other as an unearthly bellow. He hunched over like a feral beast. 

"This fool we inhabit, he will eject you from this mortal coil, then nothing will stop our path to win this war." 

You stopped laughing. His eyes shifted back to blue, and his posture and voice returned to the original tone as if he hadn't just threatened to kill you. 

"That was a bit much, wasn't it?" He rubbed his nose, his voice nasally. 

"What's your name?" You asked calmly. You realized you'd have to appeal to him to get him to free you. 

"John Constantine," he squinted his eyes.

"Listen, John, you're being played."

"What do you mean?" He responded. 

"Those suggestions you keep getting, in your head? They're planted by demons." 

"What are you on about?"

"You've gotta believe me. You're being played for a fool. They're trying to keep me from interfering." 

"Bullshit," he replied incredulously. 

"Fine. Kill me and end the world then. Hope that sits well on your conscience."

He held his chin thoughtfully. "I'm leaving you here while I mull it over." He swiped a finger over his red nose with a wince and left.

"Goddamn it, let me out!" You screamed.

"It won't work love, it's soundproof. G'night!" He closed the door and locked it. 

At least he had the kindness to turn the lights off. Your ears tuned into every creak in the house, every cough after he lit up his second cigarette in ten minutes. You counted. 

When he couldn't sleep, and you managed to squeeze in twenty minutes of shut-eye, he flicked the lights on around 2 AM. 

"Have you no common decency?" You asked, and your eyes squinted to block out the light. 

"I didn't think you would need sleep, what with the whole Antichrist thing." He gestured broadly at you. 

"Well, I still do. I'm human." 

"Really, you're not like half-demon or something?" 

"I don't think so." You weren't really sure. 

He laughed. "So, you know nothing about where you come from?" 

"I know enough. Doesn't mean I'd share it with you." You narrowed your eyes at him. 

"Oh come off it, I'm just trying to serve the greater good. Tell me about yourself." He sat in front of you, legs crossed like a schoolchild. 

You sighed dramatically and thought for a moment. You were bored. Your captor might free you if he gets to know you. Maybe you could figure out more about him and leverage it to escape. 

"Why don't you tell me about you, if you do, I'll tell you more about me." 

"Okay, fine. You ask me a question first, love." 

"Where are you from?" 

"Boring question, Liverpool." He replied. "What was it like being raised by a cult?" He asked, a devilish smirk spreading on his lips. 

"It sucked." 

He held his hand out, asking for more information. 

"I was kidnapped when I was four, so it sucked. It's all I really know." Your words spilled quickly, and with annoyance. "Tell me about your relationship with your mother."

"She died when I was born, minimal," he responded. "What do you know about your birth family." 

"My father was a doctor, my mother stayed at home with me," you looked off to the side. "He used to smoke those." You nodded at the cigarettes in his breast pocket. "Are you going to kill me?" 

"I'm not sure yet. What do you know about your origin?" 

"The jury is out on where I come from," you shrugged and cringed at the pain in your shoulder. "Some say it's a 'stars aligning' thing, others say it's a Zeus thing, and he came to Earth in disguise and fucked my mom which opens up a hell of a lot more questions. I don't really know. Why haven't you killed me yet?" 

"Because you're interesting, and I'm not a bad guy. I don't want to kill you, you know. It's not like I get joy from the idea, but what with the greater good and the world ending. I've lost a lot. I'd give just about anything to have it back. You drew the short straw, love," he responded. "When did you find out you're the Antichrist?" 

"I've always known since Brother Blood took me," you sat up straighter. "Why are you an alcoholic?" 

"Because I don't choose healthy coping mechanisms. Daddy issues, probably. What are you afraid of?" He asked. 

"Intimacy, the future of the human race, and fire," you listed them off. 

"Why fire?" 

"It's not your turn, what are you afraid of?" 

"Being responsible for the death of someone I love, why fire?" 

"It seems like the worst way to die." 

"If I kill you, are you actually certain it wouldn't fix everything?" 

You decided to answer honestly. "I'm not sure." 

He hummed with affirmation and left the basement, after giving you a polite nod. "Thank you for your truthfulness." 

You dozed off and woke up at about 3 AM to the sound of a scuffle upstairs. Lots of manly grunting and the sounds of fists through walls. You heard a final thump and the door opening. The fluorescent light of the room blinded you. 

"DJ, are you okay?" A man said your name so casually. He came brightly into view, and you had a partial face for the first caller to your radio station. What you could see of him was pleasant enough. The bottom half of his face was covered by a worn red bandanna. His eyes were a striking blue, and his hair raven black, with a single white strand, striking on the dark background. His skin was marred with the occasional scar and the layer of dust that walking in a post-apocalyptic city would give you. 

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, just get me out of here." Your voice shook involuntarily, and it made you angry. He undid your binds and helped you to your feet. 

"Did he hurt you?" He looked you over, the tiniest lilt of concern in the husk of his voice. 

"No," you replied. 

"Let's get you out of here," He turned tightly, and you followed behind him and up the stairs. 

John's head was dented into some kitchen drywall just above the floor, propped against it. He groaned softly. 

"Motherfucker," you kicked him twice, punctuating your syllables. 

Constantine sat straight up, board straight like a doll, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his fingers snaked around your leg, violently squeezing.

And he spoke with a voice laced with growls and hisses, tinged with the scent of sulfur, infernal, stinging your nose and making your eyes water. 

"You can try to stop us, but it's all in vain, Antichrist. Blood will prevail, and the legions of Hell will swarm the Earth." He grinned sickeningly, and your stomach flipped. "And it'll all be because of you, the prophecy spoke of it. You can't escape your fate, darling." 

You shoved your hand against his head to force him off of you, to get him to shut up and stop talking. He screeched, and the skin you touched lit up in red smoke. His mouth opened agape in a silent scream, and tendrils exited his mouth in plumes of dark gray, streaming upwards and through the ceiling. Then he collapsed in on himself, unconscious. 

The man in the red mask was taken aback, the same as you. He spoke first. 

"What the-" 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! <3 
> 
> Please leave a comment or a kudos if you did! 
> 
> Much love to you, 
> 
> SNS


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